


THREE: MEMORY LOSS

by roswyrm



Series: AND REMEMBER! BAD THINGS: WILL HAPPEN [2]
Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Amnesia, Bad Things Happen Bingo, M/M, Memory Loss, its not clarified in text BUT it is in fact an enchanment, sasha is there but not Really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 18:36:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19409032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roswyrm/pseuds/roswyrm
Summary: Written for nofearnopanic, podcasts-8-my-heart, and the Bad Things Happen Bingo!





	THREE: MEMORY LOSS

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShadowNekoinaTardis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowNekoinaTardis/gifts), [Zoraine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoraine/gifts).



> ;3

It’s not fun, learning everything again. The tall human (‘Don’t you remember, boss? Sasha Rackett? Sasha Who’s Asking? You– you hired me, don’t you _remember?’_ No, he doesn’t remember, that’s kind of his whole thing) shows affection by sitting nearby, completely silent, not interacting with him. The short goblin (‘Don’t worry, you never met me.’ Because that’s so much better, because remembering which of them he has a history with and which ones he doesn’t is so much easier) is brutally efficient and doesn’t have time to waste on helping him through things. The really tall orc (‘It’s good to meet you.’ So he didn’t know her either, he’s guessing, he thinks, but he doesn’t know because he doesn’t _remember_ and because nobody fucking _tells him)_ is soft and caring and it makes him want to scream because he’s _fine._

He’s got amnesia, but he’s not helpless.

It’s not fun, learning everything again.

He gets a bracelet from the tall human (Sarah? Simone? It starts with an S, he knows that) with his name on it. Zolf Smith. It’s a stupid name, but it feels right on his tongue, so he guesses it must be his, after all.

He has a bracelet on with a name on it. Zolf Smith. It’s a stupid name, but it feels right on his tongue, so he guesses it must be his.

There’s something on his wrist, and when he checks, it’s a silver bracelet with a name on it. Zolf Smith. It’s a stupid name, but it feels right on his— he’s already done this, hasn’t he?

There’s something on his wrist, and it’s cold and metal against his skin, and he chucks it against a wall. 

He can’t remember his own name. “What happened to the bracelet?” The human (Sarah? Simone? It starts with an S, he knows that) looks disappointed and hurt.

He doesn’t know how many times he can say ‘I don’t remember’ before someone screams at him. “I don’t have a bracelet,” he says. It’s true. There’s no bracelet on his wrists, and he can’t remember there being one, but that doesn’t exactly mean much.

He gets a necklace from the tall human (Sarah? Si– he’s already done this, hasn’t he?) with his name on it. Zolf Smith. 

The halfling isn’t even familiar, and he can tell that hurts him. “We,” the halfling stammers, eyes wet with tears, “we saved Paris, remember? And I held your hand when you got your legs back?” The halfling looks like he’s about to start wailing, and he doesn’t know how to stop it, and then he has an armful of sobbing halfling. “I’m sorry,” he says,

“I’m so sorry, I should have been there,” weeps the halfling in his arms, and he really doesn’t know what’s happening. He pats at their back. The halfling isn’t even familiar.

There’s a necklace weighing him down, and there’s a thin silver tag reading _Zolf Smith_ and the name feels right on his tongue.

There’s a hand in his own, and there’s quiet sniffling beside him from a halfling, and the warmth feels right against his palm. The halfling isn’t even familiar, though, and he thinks he feels sorry about that.

“Do you want your own room?” asks a really tall orc, and he blinks up at her. 

“Uh,” he says, “no.” It’s a stupid answer, but it feels right on his tongue, and he finds the person who looks the most hopeful and says, “Can I share with him?” The halfling isn’t even familiar, but the cautious light in his eyes is something he thinks he’d know anywhere. And besides, it’s probably a good idea to have someone who can explain stuff to him if he wakes up and doesn’t know

“Zolf,” someone whispers, “hey, it’s okay. I’m here.” He (Zolf? Is that his name? It’s a stupid name, but it sounds right on the other man’s tongue) tries not to hyperventilate. The halfling isn’t even– he’s already done this, hasn’t he? “You’re safe,” the halfling soothes, “I promise,

“Nothing’s going to hurt you, darling.” And that sounds right, but he doesn’t _remember,_ and this is making him frustrated. It hurts, feeling so lonely for someone, something that he can’t even name. The halfling smooths a hand through his hair and says, “Go back to sleep, Zolf. You’re okay.” The halfling isn’t even familiar. He (Zolf? Is that his n– he’s already _done this)_ closes his eyes and 

Warm arms wrap around his waist, and he freezes. “Is this okay?” It’s asked softly, but it’s too _much_ all at once and he doesn’t even _remember them._

“No,” he answers, even though he knows it’ll hurt them, “no, no, nothing’s _okay!”_ The arms leave, and then there’s a hand on his shoulder, lifting him so that he’s sitting up. “I don’t know you! I don’t know anything, I don’t know myself, and everyone– fuck, I just want to remember, so you’ll stop looking at me like I broke your heart!”

The halfling reaches over the side of the bed and drapes something around his shoulders. “It’ll bring you back here if you want to take a walk and forget where our room is,” they say softly. He wonders how well they must know him because they recognised that he needed one before he did.

“Thanks,” he says because it seems like he should say something. The halfling smiles wider, and he slips out of bed to take a walk and hopes it’ll help him calm

There’s a ring around his finger and a necklace around his throat and a cloak on his shoulders, and he doesn’t know where they came from. _Zolf Smith_ reads the tag on the necklace, and the name feels right on his tongue. _Hamid al-Tahan_ reads the cursive embroidery on the cloak’s hem, and the name feels right in a way not many things do.

**Author's Note:**

> im still accepting prompts so send me some on tumblr @roswyrm i have several more squares to fill!!!


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